


The 2nd Greatest Story Ever Told

by RainWritesStuff



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangel Gabriel, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Sabriel - Relationship - Freeform, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:51:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5484083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainWritesStuff/pseuds/RainWritesStuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a motel room in Albany on Christmas Eve, Sam wants to hear about his angel's part in the very first Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 2nd Greatest Story Ever Told

The Winchester Brothers did not do Christmas. Not since Dean’s ‘last’ Christmas, the one before the marker for his soul was cashed in. That had been a one-off, a bitter sweet memory that Sam found himself returning to with mixed results, never knowing whether it would bring comfort, guilt or paralysing, gut-wrenching sorrow.  
The brothers did, however, do angels. And when his own particular angel came to him in a haze of cinnamon, with a fistful of candy canes and the promise of every filthy little thing Sam had ever dared to wish for in his butterscotch eyes, it was hard not to be carried away by the spirit of the season.  
On a comforter of dubious lineage in the Mohawk Motel in Bethlehem, Albany, Sam swallows as his lover trails sticky caramel apple kisses down the long line of his throat.  
“C’mon Sammy” Gabe’s voice is sweet against soft tanned skin “What do you really want for Christmas? You know I can give you an-y-thing…” His voice turns sing-song, teasing.  
Sam’s eyes open slowly to meet with his angel’s. Ancient. Incandescent. Ever changing, but always lit from within with drops of molten gold.  
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam’s brain fires up the memory of an old Lutheran hymnal.  
“The Angel Gabriel from Heaven came, with wings as drifted snow, with eyes as flame”  
“Huh” A single word from Sam as he sits upright. Not even a word, just a sound really. But from Sam it usually says volumes, and does fun things to Gabriel’s swimsuit area.  
Intrigued, Gabriel plucks the lyric from Sam’s head, sensing more than hearing the words. His eyes narrow and he cocks his head in a manner that should recall a bird but now only reminds Sam forcibly of his brother’s angel, Castiel.  
“You playing my song, Sammy?” Gabriel’s tone is playful, but his eyes darken, guarded. “It’s the wing thing, right? You have a kink?” He rolls his shoulders as if they’re already right there on his back. “You longing to see me shake a tail feather for you?”  
Sam huffs an impatient breath “It’s not the wings” he says, though there is a picture forming in his mind of Gabriel in the style of a Gustave Dore engraving, and he finds it oddly arousing. “I guess I just never really thought about that being you. I mean, obviously you’re an angel, but I’ve never considered how you fit in to all the stories.”  
“You want stories?” Gabriel’s pushes Sam back down “Now ‘Gabriel - The Pagan Years’, that’s the VH1 special you want to be watching. Unless me butt-naked in a crown of evergreen doesn’t work for you.”

The hunter squirms out from under his angel, knowing when he’s being distracted. His voice is slow, tone insistent. “Bible stories. I want to know how you told Mary she was going to give birth to Jesus.”  
Gabriel is clearly uncomfortable. He casts his eyes downwards, biting his lip and running a hand through his hair so that it sticks out in a way that Sam would find adorable if he only felt closer to getting his own way.  
“It was nothing, really. A quick post-it stuck to on her monitor, maybe there was a saucy sketch so she got the picture. Not much of a story.” He pushes Sam back on the pillow, lips continuing their exploration of Sam’s neck, leaving goose-bumps in their wake.  
Sam shifts the wriggling angel gently from his lap, sitting upright and adopting his gravest expression “Seriously Gabe. It’s Christmas. And I’d like to know. How’d it happen? Was there really a star? A stable? A manger?”  
Gabriel sighs, beaten, but his eyes still spark as he answers Sam “It really didn’t happen the way the good book says it did. Take knocking up Mary, for one.”  
Sam’s eyes widened “Holy crap. Gabe, you didn’t?”  
“Ewww, Hells no! Girl was a moose.” Sam’s face turns sturgeon-like, and Gabe is back-pedalling furiously. “Ok, more like a buffalo. And hoofed beasties are not my thing. Well, not in that lifetime anyway,” he adds, smiling conspiratorially. “That girl was hairy. And no virgin. Not a lot of choice tail in Royal David’s City, kiddo, so even the ugly chicks got some action. And was she ever ugly. Trust me, she may have found favour with Dad, but I wouldn’t have banged her with Raphael’s dick.” He smiles, clearly amusing himself. “The Holy Ghost might have come upon her, but no way was she getting my precious swimmers.”  
Sam is starting to loosen up and play along “Did you even have junk back then? I thought you angels were like eunuchs ‘til you found a body to hitch with?”  
“It’s complicated”, Gabe concedes. “I wasn’t a man, per se, but I was definitely male. I did have another body then, not this perfect ass. Not that my ass was any less perfect” he waggles an eyebrow “Just different.”  
“Higher, maybe?” Sam offers, and Gabe’s eye’s flash in fake anger.  
“It’s just, you’re kind of diminutive for a holy messenger.”  
“Diminutive? Ooh, Professor Winchester, I love it when you use those Stanford words on me. Officially though, I’m still offended, hot vocabulary or not.”  
“You could show me how it went.” Sam is intrigued. “What she saw when you came to her. What you said.”  
“I didn’t actually say anything” Gabriel says, raising his hands as if denying responsibility “That was all Dad. I was just the delivery method.”  
“Please, Gabe” Sam puppy dogs and Gabe is done for. He reaches to stroke Sam’s cheek with the back of his hand. Sam’s eyes close in a gesture of absolute trust.  
“Ok” Gabe whispers. “Brace yourself lover; here come those glad tidings.”  
A gust of air huffs warm against Sam’s face. Dots of light are dancing past his eyelids. He feels his name as a low rumble in his gut and a tolling bell somewhere just beyond his grasp -“Samuel.” He finds enough courage to open his eyes….  
Golden wings which should be scraping the cracked ceiling of room 24 are currently outlined against an inky blue sky. Nazareth? Sam wonders. Swallowing his fear, his eyes go first to alabaster feet with a gown of cobalt pooling around them, the folds in the fabric shadowed from a downcast light which Sam realises with a start must be coming from a halo. He raises his eyes and yes, there’s it is. It’s set upon on a brow that Sam has kissed gently on lazy mornings, seen dripping with sweat on precious nights spent rolling on cheap motel beds. It’s simple ring of gold. Not the source of light. No that’s all the angel, and the devastating brilliance of his impossible eyes.  
Gabe is gone, and in his place is Gabriel, the archangel. And Sam is nothing. A fragile and tiny creature, trapped for eternity in the ancient amber of his angel’s eyes.  
Sam’s seen traces of the archangel in Gabriel before - in the squaring of his shoulders in the warehouse when he first revealed his true name; in the sacrifice behind his bravado at the Elysian Fields Hotel. Even in their early mornings of slow kisses and whispers, there is a shadow of Gabriel’s power under the soft curve of his belly, some faint trace of command beneath the wanton begging. There is a reminder of the contradiction that is Sam’s angel in the way that Gabriel’s gaze is fiercest when his mouth is soft, his eyes never more gentle than when his tongue is dripping with snark.  
But this, this is pure and unbridled celestial force. Not a messenger of the Lord, but a conduit. Gabriel is God’s lightning conductor, harnessing the power of Heaven to lay at his hunter’s feet. Sam sees now for the first time the painstaking effort that it takes Gabriel to hide away this part of him, and he feels shame and exhilaration and something that he can’t quite fathom. It is at once breath-taking and devastating.  
Face wet with tears, Sam realises that he is painfully hard. He glances down in panic, willing his traitorous body to behave. Gabriel follows his downcast eyes, raises an eyebrow in a gesture that is utterly Sam’s Gabe and with a thought sends Sam crashing over the edge. As his hunter’s legs give out, Gabe is there to catch him, Sam’s fingers clutching blindly at him, his breath huffing out in relief when he feels denim and cotton beneath his trembling hands.  
“That isn’t me, Sam” Gabriel is whispering, carding his fingers through the hunter’s hair “Not anymore. It’s just a party trick. It’s over.”  
“It’s still a part of you” Sam protests, his eyes meeting Gabriel’s and finding his angel there again. “And I think I liked it” he admits, quietly “Your power.”  
“You were afraid of me” Gabriel says softly, but there is a spark in his eyes as he considers Sam’s words and the clearly knee-buckling orgasm he just had. Kid really liked the power. Well, isn’t that interesting?  
“I’m always a little afraid of you” Sam confesses. He looks frustrated for a moment and when he speaks again, his words tumble out as if against his will “No, not you. This. I’m afraid of this. Of us. For us. Scared of how much I want you and what it would do to me to lose you again.”  
A frantic and faintly ridiculous thought passes though Sam’s head - that this is so not a confession he wanted to make with come drying on the inside of his jeans. Gabe plucks the thought from his head and with a snap Sam is stripped of his sticky clothes and tucked up in the motel bed, covers tucked snugly around his waist. He reaches for Gabriel, who gratefully nestles beside him.  
Sated and loose-limbed, Sam snuggles beneath the suspect comforter and thanks God that the black light is stowed in the trunk of Dean’s car. Gabe plays the little spoon until Sam falls asleep. For only the second time since he left his family, he prays, a simple mantra that scratches at his skull until the words lose meaning, and all he can feel is Sam Winchester’s bright little soul, tugging at his sleeve.  
“Let me keep this. Let me keep him.”

The angel can summon things with a thought, but he still risks the flourish of a finger snap as he stands at the motel room window, smiling at his handiwork as the first soft flurries drift past the glass and anoint the roof of Dean’s beloved Impala.  
The snap disturbs Sammy, and he stirs, rolling over to search for his lover. Gabe marvels at the hitch in Sam’s breathing, hears his own purposeless breath catch in his throat as his lover’s eyes find his reflected in the motel window. The faint glow of lights from the parking lot wrestles with the buttery haze of the winter moon, casting the room in a gentle glow. Soft light is catching in the angel’s tawny hair, and for a moment Sam can see that halo again.  
When he speaks, Sam’s voice is thick with wonder and affection.  
“Happy Christmas, Gabe.”  
Gabriel turns to him, mischief in his eyes and Sam’s favourite lop-sided smile tugging at his lips.  
“Happy Christmas, kiddo.”  
He lands with a bounce that threatens the springs of the cheap motel bed. Sam reaches for him, his hands finding soft satin where the rough canvas of Gabriel’s jacket should be. He looks down, face breaking into a dimpled smile when he takes in the huge red gift bow that’s somehow all Gabe is wearing.  
Gabriel’s eyes are soft as he moves in for a kiss and he closes them at the very last second, murmuring against Sam’s lips. “Open your gift Sammy. I got you just what you wanted.”  
And as Sam licks his way into Gabriel’s smiling mouth, he can only agree.


End file.
